Ours is the Sky
by The Glass Sea
Summary: A collection of one-shots, drabbles, and snippets of "might-be" stories. Mostly Hiccup and Toothless, with a large helping of Hiccstrid and a dash of Stalka. Goes from cannon based to UAs to AUs.
1. Gray

**This one is the one I felt should start off this collection: it's honestly pretty different from most of the others, but I feel like it just... belongs here. I don't know. Whatever. Enjoy it. (if you want to).**

* * *

 **Gray  
18.  
Summary: Hiccup loves the gray days- they're his favorite.  
**

* * *

It was the gray days that were Hiccup's favorite.

The days that were dark, and it wasn't quite raining, but after just a few minutes outside, you'd find yourself completely soaked. The days when everyone was miserable and didn't want to do anything. The cold days, full of wind and rain.

Those were Hiccup's favorite days.

He'd wake up, and practically feel the moisture on his blankets from the spitting rain, feel the pressure of the atmosphere in his ears and in his head until it felt like he'd burst. He'd yank off the freezing cold blankets and all but throw himself against Toothless' warmth. Not even Toothless wanted to get up and face the cold wet misery outside, so they'd sleep all morning, happy for a morning off.

After all, Gobber wouldn't be getting out of bed on a morning like this, so there was no point in a hurried morning flight before heading to the forge.

Finally, once they were too warm and restless to stay curled up any longer, they'd go downstairs and eat, and then Hiccup would snap the tailfin and saddle on. Hiccup would think of the gray sky and the rain and the cold he'd have to face on the way up, and he'd grab a fleece coat and wrap it around himself. Toothless would laugh, because Hiccup looked like an awkward and lanky sheep, and Hiccup would just grin.

Because the gray days were his favorite.

Hiccup and Toothless would look at each other, fling the door open, and escape into the sky as quickly as possible. Toothless would blow some fire while his head was still dry, just to see the color smoking against the ash sky. Hiccup would wrap the fleece against himself tighter, while Toothless grumbled about the cold.

And then they flew.

They didn't zip over the island and then trace wingtips and fingertips against the frigid sea. They didn't brush the top of the forest, narrowly missing trees, or freefall until the last minute off of a cliff or the top of the highest mountain peak. No.

This time, they just went up.

It was cold. And it was wet.

Hiccup's hands would be numb and he'd be shivering even though the fleece within minutes. But they kept going up.

Up, until they were part of the gray sky that stretched on forever, that covered everything, that made them feel like they were suffocating.

And then they were free.

Toothless and Hiccup would break through the clouds, out into the bright afternoon sky, leaving behind a sea of gray below. The air would be so thin Hiccup couldn't breathe but it didn't matter, nothing mattered except that they had escaped to a world that no one else could reach. It was just him and Toothless, free.

Up here, in the sky, they were one.

Up here, no one could tell where the boy ended and the dragon began.

Up here, there was no Hiccup; no Toothless.

They were Hiccup and Toothless.

Together.

Toothless' wings were Hiccup's wings, Hiccup's thoughts were Toothless' thoughts, Toothless' joy was Hiccup's joy, Hiccup's love was Toothless' love.

Two halves of the same heart.

Two halves of the same soul.

And they were so _alive!_

Hiccup would open his arms to the sun while Toothless stretched his wings out to reach it, shaking pearls of water from his scales. The sun was theirs alone today, the sky was theirs alone- the world was theirs alone.

Just for today, nothing existed, nothing mattered, nothing nothing nothing.

Nothing but the blue above, the gray below, the sun ahead.

There was nothing between them and forever.

Free.

Breathlessly free, until their lungs burned and their wings ached and their voice had given out with the freedom.

These days were Hiccup's favorites.

These were the gray days.


	2. Useless

**This one will most likely become a full story. Eventually. I wrote this one in one sitting, and really like it.  
WARNING: MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH. Not too graphic, but its character death nonetheless.**

* * *

 **Useless  
** **1593.  
** **24\. Var. 1  
** **Summary: Snotlout follows Hiccup after he shoots down that Night Fury.**

* * *

This was pointless.

Of all the idiotic things he had done, this easily topped them all.

He knew it was useless, from the moment he had crept into the woods.

Useless.

Snotlout should have known better than to listen to his cousins' "I killed a Night Fury" story. As if. He should have known. There was no way his pathetic, scrawny, cousin could have never shot down that monster. Hiccup was as useless as ever. Nothing would change there.

And now Snotlout had become the butt of the twin's joke. They had bugged him and dared him to go after the monster they assured him that Hiccup had shot down. And he had believed them. By now, he should have known they were playing a prank on him. He also should have known that Hiccup could not shoot down the offspring of lightning and death. Snotlout had to admit: the twins were stupid, but they certainly knew how to make everyone else look stupid too.

Speaking of looking stupid, Dad was going to be so mad at him for running out to the woods to "goof off". Snotlout sighed loudly and turned around. He was about to head home when he heard a familiar voice. Annoying, irritating. There was only one person with a voice like that.

All thoughts of returning to Berk were gone. Snotlout had to know what was going on; what stupid thing Hiccup the Useless was doing. He all but ran in the direction of his cousin's voice.

"I'm a Viking!" The shout rang out, and Snotlout marched past a few more trees before the land sloped down. A few trees had crashed, and the dirt had been raked up recently. _What in Thor's name had happened here?_ Snot climbed up another small hill-

And then Hiccup was in view, his feet planted and his dagger held high above his head. His back was to Snotlout, so Snotlout couldn't see his face. What was he doing? And then he looked a little further down.

Hiccup was standing over a- _Night Fury?!_ Hiccup had done it! He had actually shot it down! Snotlout gaped at the sight he had been sure he'd never see before he died. And then, here was his cousin, about to kill a dragon all on his own.

A Night Fury.

His cousin actually about to kill a dragon.

This was, without a doubt, the strangest day in Snotlout's life. There was absolute silence Snotlout and the dragon waited for Hiccup to kill it.

Why was he waiting? Why was he hesitating?

 _Why are you so weak?_

Then Hiccup's arms dropped to his sides, useless.

He hadn't killed it.

He couldn't kill it.

He wouldn't kill it.

Snotlout stared, not sure what to think, what to feel. Disappointment? Anger? Disgust at his cousin's weakness? Hiccup could have never asked for a kill easier than this. The Night Fury had been practically wrapped up and handed to him! What more did he want?

This was his chance to be accepted, his chance to become a Viking, a chance to ensure his place in the tribe, to become something more than the useless son of the chief.

And he was throwing it away.

Snotlout never felt such rage. How dare Hiccup throw away everything he could have ever asked for? How dare Hiccup turn his back on something Snotlout cherished, something he loved, something he would give everything for?

He would have killed that Night Fury in a heartbeat.

The twins would have killed that Night Fury.

Astrid would have; even Fishlegs would have killed the dragon.

But not Hiccup.

Apparently, the tribe wasn't good enough for him.

Hiccup turned away and Snotlout wanted to jump at him, to yell, to pummel his rage into Hiccup, but didn't. He waited, waited for Hiccup to look up towards the top of the hill and see him. But then Hiccup sighed, and glanced back to look at the dragon again, breathing out a soft word that Snotlout didn't quite catch.

Was he having second thoughts? Was he finally realizing how precious this gift was?

But Snotlout wasn't going to let him have a second chance. Hiccup didn't deserve it. It was Snotlout's turn to shine now.

He walked down the hill, layering all his seething rage into his voice. "Wow, Hiccup, you're even weaker than I thought." Hiccup whirled and gaped at him in surprise, fumbling backwards and already starting to make some stupid excuse or another.

Snotlout interrupted him. "You're too weak to kill a dragon even if it can't fight back!" He waited for his cousin to say something sharp, to get flustered, to do anything. But Hiccup said nothing, his eyes falling to his feet, like he knew he deserved everything that Snotlout was about to say.

So Snotlout continued: "You know, I bet the dragon even pities you. You should have a least put it out of its misery." Snotlout drew his sword. "It would have slowly starved to death, anyway. That's just cruel."

Hiccup stepped between Snotlout and the dragon- almost like he was protecting it. "I could have freed it."

 _Useless_ , Snotlout thought in disgust. "And then it would have, oh, I don't know, eaten you?" Hiccup looked away. "What- you didn't think it would be _grateful_ to you and spare your life?" Snotlout shook his head. He knew Hiccup was done, Snotlout knew he had won.

"You need a lesson on the real world, Hiccup. Dragons are killers. Monsters. They kill us without hesitation. They killed _my_ mom. They killed _your_ mom. They," Snotlout pointed to the Night Fury with his sword, and then let the tip rest on his cousin's chest. "...would kill you, too."

Snotlout wondered why he was spelling this out for Hiccup. Did he feel sorry for him?

 _No_ , he decided, he didn't.

"I should let it." He hissed, digging the sharp tip of the blade into the green fabric of Hiccup's shirt. His cousin was looking increasingly nervous, but he wasn't backing off. "Let it rip you apart and burn your insides until you're nothing but a smoking, mangled, indistinguishable corpse. You deserve it. You should have killed it when you still could."

Snotlout pushed past Hiccup, and Hiccup didn't move.

Couldn't move.

 _Wouldn't._

300 years, and he was the first Viking who _wouldn't_ kill a dragon.

"Don't worry about it, though, I'll take care of it." Snotlout stood above the dragon, its green eyes narrowed. He grinned at it. It would die, and he would become the son his father would be proud of. The son Stoick wished he had. The son who hadn't failed him again and again and again.

Hiccup said nothing as Snotlout stabbed through scales and tissue and bone. The dragon howled, once, but then Snotlout pulled his sword loose, and drove it in again, and then once more. The dragon finally went still, dark blood filling in gaps in the scales.

"What were you going to do? Cut out its heart?" Snotlout turned towards his cousin, wanting to see his reaction, to see exactly how _weak_ his cousin truly was.

Nothing.

Hiccup just stared at the dragon, his face a mix of emotions that Snotlout didn't recognize. Snotlout made short work of the dragon, and quickly removed the heart. He didn't miss the look of disgust on Hiccup's face. So he made sure he waved it in front of him, unable to stop the grin when Hiccup flinched. "I'll take this to my dad, then lead them here to get the rest of the creature."

He didn't bother to look back.

* * *

Hiccup watched Snotlout's retreating back.

He was a failure.

Useless.

He wasn't a Viking. He couldn't kill a dragon.

There had never been an alternative. Or, at least not one that he knew of.

So what did that make him?

Hiccup stared at the Night Fury, avoiding looking at the dragon's injures. The dragon's eyes were still open, but they were dead and unseeing. "I did this." Hiccup whispered again. Carefully, he bent down and closed the dragon's eyes. It didn't look like a monster anymore.

All he could see was a creature who had been just as scared as he was, uncertain and fearful of the other.

But not malicious.

He hadn't seen a killer.

He had seen a beast who felt emotion, who felt fear. And if it could feel fear, what else could it feel? Pain, sorrow, joy? No, he hadn't been looking into the eyes of a killer.

And when he had seen himself in those narrowed green eyes; when he had seen his reflection, he hadn't seen a killer.

The dragon wasn't a killer, and neither was Hiccup.

 _I'm not a Viking,_ he thought. _And I never will be._

Hiccup started walking, letting his feet take him somewhere. He didn't want to be around when Snotlout showed off his prize.

* * *

He didn't want to be around when his father named Snotlout heir. But he was there.

He wasn't sure why he was here. On Berk. In the Great Hall, watching Snotlout get something that Hiccup had never wanted, but was rightfully his.

No, Hiccup didn't want the chiefdom. But that didn't make it hurt any less. After all, Hiccup knew he wasn't a Viking. He had always known.

Stoick had tried. Stoick had put him into Dragon Training, but after one too many accidents had pulled him out. Under Grimhilda, Hiccup became a "bread-making Viking". At least it was a change, and he didn't have to put up with his dad's cooking anymore.

His admiration for Astrid faded after dragon training, when she openly rebuked him after an incident involving a Zippleback. Maybe he had deserved it, but she had gotten her point across- all he was, and would ever be to her was a useless, pathetic excuse of a runt and it would have been better for everyone if the dragons had killed him along with his mother.

And that was when life fell into routine, and the only thing Hiccup looked forward to was the occasional times when Camicazi, his only friend, came to visit for a peace treaty renewal. The rest of his days were spent in a balance between the forge and the kitchens, trying to ignore the whispers and glances aimed his way.

He didn't really care that Snotlout got all the glory, that he became the son Stoick never had. He had accepted it as it was. There was nothing he could do about it.

He didn't care that Snotlout got all the praise after Astrid got hurt during dragon training. He didn't care that Snotlout became a hero during a raid. He didn't care that Stoick had thrown a celebration for Snotlout's achievements.

He hadn't cared.

He didn't care.

At least until now.

Because now it hurt.

Watching Snotlout happily accept the chiefdom, eager to learn under Stoick and become the thing that Hiccup never could hurt.

Hiccup heard the cheers, and he turned away.

It didn't matter. He shouldn't care.

He wasn't a Viking.

So it didn't matter.

After all, he was leaving in the morning. He was going to find another Night Fury. He wasn't sure why, or what he'd do when he found it. But he'd make sure the Night Fury knew that he wasn't useless.

The Night Fury would be the only one to know that he wasn't useless.

And maybe that was enough for Hiccup.

* * *

 **I have a few ideas for some directions this one could go to, but it would probably be pretty dark, or in a very similar style as my next project after Dragon Master.**

 **Thanks for reading, favoriting, following, and reviewing! You all are the best!**


	3. I'm Here

**Definitely doing a follow up for this one. More below, I guess.  
Sorry for the lack of Toothless in this one. At least it's Hiccstrid, I guess. **

* * *

**I'm Here**  
 **1591.**  
 **Summary: Modern AU. Hiccup meets his mother for the first time with the help of his girlfriend. Hiccstrid.**

* * *

As soon as the library came into view, I turned so sharply that Astrid's head almost hit the side window. "Hiccup!" she cried, but I hardly heard her over the sound of blood in my ears.

She continued to shout at me as I drove farther away from our destination. From some distant place, I heard a swerve and a horn honking and I wondered if that was my fault. "Hiccup!" Astrid grabbed my arm, breaking me out of my daze. "Pull over-!"

I did, pulling into a small shopping center and slamming the car into park, then mechanically turning off the ignition out of habit. I looked over at Astrid, whose wide-eyed expression mirrored my own. My mind was somewhere between racing with fears and completely blank. I wasn't sure what I was thinking, what I was feeling. I wasn't sure of anything anymore.

Finally, Astrid regained her composure (it never took her long), smoothing her shirt and brushing her hair from her face. Silence.

She reached over, and pried my hands from the steering wheel (had I been gripping it this whole time? My knuckles were as white as Jack's porcelain skin). She took them in her own, and I wasn't sure if her hands were shaking or if mine were.

"Hiccup."

My hands were.

"I can't breathe," I gasped.

Astrid continued to meet my wild gaze steadily.

"I can't breathe," I said again. And then, when she didn't seem impressed, I added: "I'm going to throw up." It wasn't a lie, my stomach felt like it was doing somersaults.

"You're not going to throw up."

"Yes, I am."

"No, you're not."

"I am."

Astrid squeezed my hands, hard. "You are not going to throw up," she told me, with such a commanding tone that I gave in.

"I'm… I'm not going to throw up."

She loosened her grip on my hands, but didn't let them go. Silence between us again, as Astrid let me get my breathing under control again.

When we both were sure I wasn't going to die of asphyxiation, Astrid finally questioned me. "What's wrong?"

She knew what was wrong. She did. But this was why she was my girlfriend. She knew I needed to talk myself out of this.

"I can't do this."

"Why?"

"I'm terrified."

"Of?" she pressed, trying to meet my eyes. I didn't let her, I stared at our hands.

I didn't answer. At least not out loud. But we both knew.

"You're going to do it, though."

I looked up. Astrid stared back at me. "What makes you so sure?" I asked.

"Because if you don't, you will regret it every single day of your life."

She was right.

Astrid usually was.

She leaned over and pressed a kiss to my temple. "It's going to be okay. I'll be right there with you the whole time."

I closed my eyes and thanked God for Astrid, smiling into her embrace. I don't know what I'd do without her.

* * *

A half hour later found me in Sanctuary Public Library, pretending to look at natural history books. I bit my lip as I pulled one off the shelf and flipped through it absent-mindedly. I wandered down different aisles, paying no attention to what I was looking at.

And then, after forever (but still all too soon), Astrid was at my side. "I found her."

I held on tightly to the book I was holding. "Oh, oh gosh." The feeling of suffocation returned as my breath caught and my heart sped up. Astrid wrapped me in a hug, reassuring me that I was not going to regret this. I wasn't so sure, but Astrid was. And that was all it took to give me courage.

"I'll be right here the whole time."

I nodded, swallowing. "Okay."

I don't remember much, only Astrid's hand on back as she guided me towards one of the back shelves, where a middle-aged woman was going through books, re-shelving them. Astrid gave me a moment to compose myself.

She looked like me. My mom looked like me. More correctly, I looked like her, but the thought still made a sob come up and catch in my throat. Brown hair that caught red in the light, narrow shoulders, and... I had her hands.

I looked at my hands now. Nails chipped from working at Gobber's, there was quite a bit of grime under them… I should wash my hands before I met her.

My moment was up, by Astrid's standards, as she pushed me forward. "Excuse me, ma'am," she said, getting the woman's attention.

She turned to Astrid, a smile coming to her face. "What can I help you with, de-"

She looked at me.

She _looked_ at me.

The sob decided to take over again, my throat closing up completely and tears coming to my eyes. She _looked_ at me. _She's looking at me_.

Her smile fell off her face, she went white as a sheet.

Astrid took a step closer to me, her elbow brushing my arm. _I'm here_ , she was saying.

But it was my mother that spoke first. "Hiccup," she breathed.

"Hi, mom." My voice came out in a broken whisper, but she heard it anyway.

Astrid backed away a step as my mother drew closer, not quite touching. As if she was scared that if she touched me, I'd vanish, the same way she did when I was born.

I thought maybe I _would_ vanish during that long moment as she just stared at me and I at her.

Very, very slowly, she reached for me. I didn't pull away, didn't move. Her hand ghosted over my cheek, and it broke the spell.

I found myself wrapped in an embrace that I had craved my whole life. I didn't move, trying to keep from crying into her shoulder. _I'm here_ , she was saying. She started shaking, and I knew she was crying, too.

And then I grabbed onto her with every bit of strength I had. _I'm here_ , I said.

I don't know how long we stayed like that: clinging to each other like a lifeline, but sometime during the mess we slid to the floor. My mother was pressing kisses to my forehead and temple and everywhere she never had.

Another pair of strong arms wrapped around the both of us, and I knew it was Astrid. _I'm here,_ Astrid said.

I still don't know what I'd do without her.

* * *

 **So this was based off a dream. It was... really weird. I literally changed nothing from the dream. (Except pulling out a security guard who was tazer happy- what even).**  
 **I do want to do a follow up for this one, maybe not a sequel but in this universe, and possibly from Astrid's point of view. I've never written with her in first person, so that'd be interesting.  
** **Also, I really love RotBTD, so that's why Jack is mentioned (pretend that's a reasonable explanation). Just don't ask, because I don't know.  
** **That's it, I think.**


End file.
